


Mourning Doves, Burning Doves

by TranquilLavellan



Series: Mourning Doves, Burning Doves [1]
Category: Cullen Rutherford - Fandom, Dragon Age, cullen/lavellan - Fandom, dragon age inqusition, tranquil inquisitor - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Rite of Tranquility, Tranquil Inquisitor, tranquil lavellan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3378509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TranquilLavellan/pseuds/TranquilLavellan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two months ago, Theia defeated Corypheus, bringing an end to most of the chaos plaguing Thedas, and while her biggest threat is no more, Theia Lavellan still has enemies. Now, they are more determined than ever to inflict potentially irreparable damage to the Inquisition. The Inquisitions Inner Circle must unite once more to reverse the actions of Theia’s enemies. They may have saved Thedas, but can they save the Inquisitor?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shatter

_“You make it seem so easy.” Cullen traced his fingers over the markings on her face, marvelling at the fact that he always seemed to get lost among the delicate trail, despite the long expanse of time he spent staring at them._  

_“Make what seem easy?” She relaxed into his touch, eager to commit it to memory._

_“Being apart.” He cleared his throat, hating the thought of it. Abandoning her Vallaslin for the time being, he pulled her in close to him, treasuring the sound of the bed creaking under them._

_“It’s not easy, but I have a way to make it easier.” She nuzzled her head into his neck, breathing in his scent. It reminded her of the forest, the smell of trees dancing in the rain after being dry for so long. To her, he was home._

_“Oh?” He moved back, just enough to watch her face. “Do tell.”_

_“No!” She squealed and pressed herself back into him, burying her face in his side. “It’s embarrassing.”_

_Cullen leaned down to her ear. “I have ways of making you talk, you know.” His voice was a deep whisper against her ear, and he pressed a kiss to the tip of it._

_She shivered in excitement, remembering the very methods he would use. Knowing she would never leave his bed if this continued, she caved._

_“Alright! I’ll talk.” Theia took a deep breath and prepared for her cheeks to turn the colour of strawberries. “I dream of you.” She paused, closing her eyes. “Vividly. It gets me through the day. Almost every night, I close my eyes and it’s like you’re there with me.”_

_Theia reopened her eyes, expecting to see an empty space beside her. Instead, she was greeted by Cullen’s warm stare. Cullen knew the danger of a mage’s dreams, but he also knew that he trusted Theia more than he had ever trusted anyone ever before. Instead of talking, Cullen placed his lips upon Theia’s, knowing it would be their last kiss for a time._

* * *

 

Cullen couldn’t pay attention. He had spent all day pacing his office, attempting to read reports before abandoning them to pace some more. Word had arrived that she was returning earlier than expected, and she was due to arrive today. Theia and her companions were supposed to be visiting nobles across Ferelden for another two weeks, at least.

He had been assured that Theia was not hurt, but an ache deep in his stomach warned him that something was wrong. Thinking back to their last conversation before she departed, Cullen automatically assumed the worst. Possession. As quickly as the thought appeared, he pushed it away, refusing to further acknowledge the possibility. His time with Theia had taught him that he had spent too many years underestimating mages. She had made him a better and more understanding person, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it.

The sound of knocking pulled Cullen out of his thoughts, and he marched forward and yanked the door the rest of the way.

He hoped that Theia would be on other side, but his hopes were crushed when one of Inquisitions messengers stood before him.

“What?” Cullen seethed, expecting the messenger to hand him another pile of reports he was too anxious to even glance at.

“Commander, I’ve been sent to tell you that Theia is in the library.”

He didn’t waste time questioning the messenger; instead he let his feet carry him there, as if they had a mind of their own.

_Why would she be in the library?_

The thought plagued him, for he could not find an answer. For weeks on end, Cullen had thought of nothing but holding her in his arms. He fantasised of their reunion, conceiving a thousand different ways to express his love for her, most of them without a single word. Surely Theia missed him, he thought, just as he had missed her. Why was she avoiding him? Cullen felt like a child for thinking such petty thoughts.

Although he moved quickly, he couldn’t help but overhear the hushed conversations of the people around Skyhold. Usually, the nobles would smile mischievously at him and ask inappropriate questions about his relationship with the Inquisitor. Today, however, they avoided his gaze like it would harm them. Instead of speaking proudly, they spoke in hushed tones that chilled him to the core.

The closer he got to the library, the more he started to worry. Usually, his nerves caused him to scratch his neck and stumble across his words. Now, his arms and legs felt like they were made of iron, each step taking more effort than the last. The pounding of his heart was so loud in his head that he sensed the beginning of a headache. Something was definitely wrong. He bounded up the stairs to the library, taking several steps at a time.

Finally, Theia came into view and he exhaled a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. She was facing away from him, leaning over the research table. Making his way towards her, he surveyed every inch of her, searching for a sign of injury. He found no indication of any harm. Strangely, this did nothing to ease his worries. The closer she was to him, the worse he felt. A small part of him wanted to turn and run away and return to the sanctuary of his office. 

For the first time in weeks, Theia was within Cullen’s reach. He wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her go, but something warned him against it. Instead, he placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Theia,” Cullen’s voice was hushed and hoarse, like he’d been waiting to talk for weeks.

She turned to face him and Cullen’s heart stilled. He felt the devastation crash down onto him like an avalanche.

“Commander Cullen,” Her voice was emotionless. “Can I be of assistance?”

“No,” Cullen felt his heart shatter. “It can’t be. This isn’t possible.” He wanted to deny it, but the brand on the centre of her forehead could not be ignored. He recognised the sign all to well. It was so wrong, so out of place, bitterly covering the delicate markings on her face he traced mere weeks ago. The markings that he traced the first time she fell asleep beside him. He remembered the soft noise she made under his touch.

As much as it hurt him, he studied her face, hoping to catch a glimpse of emotion amongst the emptiness. He took her face into his hands gently; as if he was afraid she would shatter. Desperately, he grabbed her face. “Theia, tell me this isn’t happening.” He searched her eyes but was greeted with nothing. He pressed their foreheads together, waiting for her to relax into his arms like she always did.  “Don’t do this. Come back to me.”

Theia cleared her throat and immediately Cullen dropped his hands from her face and retreated, suddenly feeling like his hands had been doused in acid.

“Cullen,” A strained but familiar voice came from behind him. Recognising it as Cassandra, he didn’t bother turning around. “We need to talk about this.”

“I’m not moving from here until someone explains this.” His voice seemed to mimic thunder, hinting at the rage that lay within him, ready to appear at any moment.

“I could help you with that.” Theia spoke again. Cullen’s fists clenched at the now unfamiliar sound of her voice. “I’ve undergone the Rite of Tranquillity.”

Hearing the words spoken out loud brought him to his knees, the reality of the situation finally catching up to him in full force. Cassandra was at his side immediately, holding his shoulders to keep him steady. He closed his eyes, praying that this was nothing but a terrible nightmare he would wake up from in a moment’s time. Unfortunately, Cullen had suffered from nightmares almost his entire life, and he could easily distinguish reality from nightmares.

_The Tranquil can no longer dream._

Suddenly remembering all he had learnt about the Tranquil through his time at the Circle, Cullen was hit with a relentless wave of nausea. He thought of their conversation before Theia left Skyhold. She would never dream of him again. She would never dream of anything.

“Is there something I can do to help you, Commander Cullen? You seem distressed.” Every time she spoke, Cullen felt his heart constrict painfully. He knew he couldn’t hear her voice again without going insane. He covered his ears with his hands and applied pressure, eagerly welcoming the way it felt to block out the world around him.

“Leliana, some help please!” Cassandra yelled, her voice cracking.

“Theia, would you be able to help me up here?” Leliana’s reply from one of the upper floors was inaudible to Cullen.

“Not here, Cullen.” He distantly heard Cassandra’s voice. Cullen felt blank as he was pulled up and led out of the library. It was as if his soul was separate from his body, watching the scene unfold before him. He had no control over himself. He could only think about all he had lost. He had no idea where Cassandra was leading him; all he knew was that his love had been stripped of her emotions, her passion and her dreams. His insides boiled and his body ached.

Months ago, Theia was just Dalish woman who had slipped out of the forest and into the Inquisition. She had never wanted the mark or the responsibility, but she accepted it with grace and determination. At only 20 years of age, she put her life on hold to become the Herald of a Prophet whose teachings she didn’t follow, sacrificing herself on countless occasions. For months, she travelled across Thedas slaying demons, rallying forces and restoring peace. And she did it all without a word of complaint.

Cullen couldn’t determine at what point amongst the chaos that he fell in love with her. Sometimes, he couldn’t even remember his life before he met her. Part of him refused to believe there was a time he pledged his life to an order that would have harmed Theia without a second thought. Cullen’s heart ached as he thought of the times he witnessed mages undergo the Rite. While the Chantry liked to pretend that Tranquility was a pleasant outcome for any mage, Cullen had witnessed it firsthand. He knew better.

Soon enough, Cullen’s thoughts became overrun with memories of the Tranquil he had met in the Circles. He had always made an effort to avoid them, unable to escape the unease that overwhelmed him while in their presence.

Escaping his thoughts, he found himself sitting in the garden, Cassandra looming over him in concern. He kept his eye trained on a barren patch of soil, afraid to look around and be confronted by memories of Theia. As much as he tried to avoid it, only metres away sat the chess table they had spent countless hours hunched over. Cullen shut his eyes, recalling when she had nervously expressed her desire to spend more time with him.

“Someone was supposed to inform you before she arrived.” Cassandra moved away and began pacing in front of him.

“Is that supposed to make this better? Easier?” It hurt for him to speak, and he clenched his fists tightly, allowing the pain to keep his mind anchored. He didn’t have the strength to continue reliving those memories without losing his mind.

“No. Ideally, you weren’t supposed to see her. Not until you had time to process it.”

He laughed bitterly. “Tell me, Seeker, what is the appropriate amount of time one is awarded for processing your love becoming one of them.”

She didn’t reply.

“Tell me how it happened.” It was going to hurt, but he needed to know. He glanced up at Cassandra and saw that she had stopped pacing. Instead, she stood motionless, her face devoid of any colour. “Please. I must know.”

She sighed, somehow sounding both disgusted and devastated. “Do you remember months ago, when we thought we had dealt we the outrage that developed from Theia assigning Tranquillity to Gereon Alexius in her Judgement for his crimes?” He nodded in response. “We were wrong. Many mages were still angry. During our travels to Denerim, Theia suggested we collect some herbs for the healers. When we were gathering resources we were ambushed.” Cassandra took a deep breath; her voice was shaky when she continued. “We were not prepared for a fight, but they… They were more than prepared. They demanded justice. They were chanting something. ‘Blood must be repaid in blood’, if I remember correctly. 

“If you remember correctly? What’s that supposed to mean? Was your attention elsewhere?” Cullen’s voice was laced with venom. “Your duty was to protect her.”

“Cullen, you must know that it was Theia, Cole, Dorian and I against what must have been two dozen mages. We didn’t go down without a fight. By the time they began to chant, I was falling in and out of consciousness.”

“What about Dorian? Did they make him…” He couldn’t say the word. “Did they put him through the Rite as well?”

Cassandra let out a quivering breath. “Dorian fell first. They grabbed him and told her she could make the choice. _The judgement._ ‘It’s him or you,’ they said. He begged her not to sacrifice herself, but you know our Theia. She didn’t even consider it. She dropped her staff and told us to stop fighting. We tried to stop them,” A tear leaked down her face, pooling around a few fresh scars. “We tried so hard. We couldn’t… There were just too many of them. We… I failed her.” Cassandra’s usually proud stance had deteriorated. “I’m so sorry, Cullen." 

He wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault, that she did all she could, but he couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t find any words. He rose to his feet and left the garden wordlessly.

 


	2. Pieces

 

Skyhold was usually full of life. No matter where you were, or what time of day, the place would buzz with energy. The sound of laughter was a constant, and you couldn’t walk ten feet without a friendly greeting from a resident. Today, however, Skyhold was lifeless. For just a moment, Cullen was glad for the isolation, knowing he wouldn’t be able to cope with talking to anyone. That feeling disappeared almost instantly as he remembered the reason behind the quiet.

Theia was Tranquil. Empty. Emotionless. Her connection to the fade had been severed, and she would never be as she once was. His steps faltered, and for a moment he feared that he might collapse.

For a while, he did nothing more than roam around, until finally his emotions caught up with him and the rage inside of him bloomed to the surface. He stormed towards the training room and picked up the heaviest sword he could find. He thought the weight of it in his hands would comfort him, but instead it fuelled his anger. He approached one of the training dummies with the weapon drawn proudly. With a roar, he swung the sword with every ounce of anger pent up within him.

He didn’t know what he was expecting to gain from his expression of anger, but he continued the onslaught. In his mind, the dummies took the form of the mages who had taken Theia from him. After what must have been hours, Cullen stood in the middle of the room panting heavily. Feeling his rage resurface, he glanced around the room to find a target but came up empty, discovering that he had desecrated all of the training dummies. A scream tore from his throat as he launched the blade at the wall, wincing at the sound as it clattered to the floor.

“Did it help?” Cole’s voice startled him.

“What do you think?” Cullen strode towards the weapons, this time selecting an axe.

“I know that it didn’t.”

“Why bother asking, then?” Cullen spoke through gritted teeth. The last thing he needed right now was Cole slinking through his thoughts.

“I was hoping you would lie to me.” Cole’s voice had never sounded so small. “Theia told me about that. She said ‘Sometimes you lie to the people you care about to make them feel better.’ I could lie to you, if you would like.”

Cullen didn’t reply. Instead he moved towards a decapitated dummy that had fallen to the floor and began to hack at it.

“She’s in a bette-“ Cole began, but Cullen cut him off before he could finish.

“No lies.”

“Creators help him when he finds out. Don’t let him see me like this. Let him forget about me. Let him know I love him. Let him move on.”

The axe fell from his hands as he let out a tormented cry.

 

* * *

 

The silence that had fallen over Skyhold had extended into the Tavern. The Iron Bull sat at a table with the Chargers and Sera, who had joined them for the solemn occasion.

“I feel like I should have a speech prepared or something.” Iron Bull grumbled. He took a hefty gulp from the cup in his hand. “This isn’t the way she was supposed to go.”

“She’s not dead.” Krem spoke quietly, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

“She might as well be.” Sera was probably the only person in Skyhold who wasn’t afraid to speak above a whisper. Her voice sliced through the heavy silence like a blade. “I’ve heard people say that the Tranquil are nothing more than people shaped tables.”

Krem shot a look at her, biting his tongue to hold back to words he wanted to scream at her.

“There has to be something we can do for her.” Iron Bull slammed his cup down on the table. Some of the liquid swashed over the rim and onto his hand.

“We can put her out of her misery.” Sera’s words pushed Krem further to the point of uncontrollable rage.

“If we can stop a lunatic from destroying Thedas and making himself a God, surely we can restore Boss to herself.” Iron Bull shot back at her.

“ _We_ didn’t do anything, she stopped him, and we just tagged along and stayed for the glory. If there’s a person who can help her, it’s her. But she’s as good as dead now.” Sera’s words were laced with venom.

Krem couldn’t listen to Sera’s careless words anymore. He stood up abruptly, sending his chair flying backwards. “Without her, our bones would be demon tooth picks at this very moment. Watch your mouth Sera, or someone is going to silence it.” Krem stormed out of the Tavern.

The Iron Bull let out a low whistle before taking another gulp of his drink. “He’s right, you know.”

“I’m just being realistic. There’s no point in getting out hopes up. Theia is dead and gone to us all.”

 

* * *

 

Josephine had somehow gathered everyone around the War Table. It was a tight squeeze, but something’s needed to be addressed with everyone away from prying eyes. She glanced around the room, too afraid to linger on one spot and be bombarded with memories. How many hours had she spent in this room with Theia, Leliana and Cullen? Most of the time was spent arguing, but there were bright spots.

Josephine smiled to herself, remembering when the three women would play ‘When Corypheus is dead’.  At first, they mainly discussed how their fashion would change when they no longer feared for their lives constantly, but as time went on and they grew closer, they spoke of their hopes for the future. Tears sprung to her eyes as she recalled Theia blushing heavily whenever the prospect of marriage or children was brought up. She pushed the thoughts away, determined not to let anyone see her cry.  “Let’s get started.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Cullen?” Blackwall questioned.

Josephine opened her mouth to answer but Leliana spoke for her. “Cullen will not be joining us. He is… not well.”

A silence fell among the group as the thought of Cullen and his current state. Word had spread quickly of his breakdown in the library.

Josephine cleared her throat. “As we all know, Theia has become Tranquil. While she has retained all her memories, she has lost her abilities as a mage and her… emotions. She now spends her time in the Library as a research assistant.” Josephine closed her eyes and took a breath. “Over the past months, you have all grown close to her, and she has gotten to know you and while anyone is free to talk to her, it is not difficult to notice that she is not truly herself.  In order to make things easier, we are gathered here to decide if Theia should remain here or if she would be of more use elsewhere.”

“Why are you asking us?” The Iron Bull asks. “She can make her own decisions.”

“The Tranquil do possess free will, so it is an option to ask her. Like I said, she has no emotions, so sending her somewhere else will cause her no ail but will likely save all of you significant pain.”

A heavy silence settled over the room. For a while, it had seemed nobody had anything to say.

Until Dorian spoke up. “There must be something we can do. This woman has helped every single person in this room immeasurably. If any of you were in her position right now, rest assured she would be searching every corner of Thedas to reverse it. But what do we do instead? We discuss if we should keep her around or send her on her way, like she is nothing more than a dog!”

Murmurs of agreement filled the room. Leliana and Josephine exchanged glances.

“You’re right.” Leliana spoke, stepping out of the shadows. “We will try to find a way to reverse what has been done to her, but we make no promises.”

“There is a way to reverse it. The Seeker’s have known the cure for quite some time. It won’t be easy, but it’s doable.” Cassandra finally felt a sense of fulfilment. “With Solas, it would be considerably easier. We should attempt to contact him.”

“Keep this quiet. We don’t need to get the hopes up of everyone in Skyhold. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it covertly.” Leliana spoke harshly as she concluded the meeting.

The room was empty within seconds, a silent determination present among them all.

 

* * *

 

 

Dorian had no idea what to do with himself. Previously, he spent most of his time in the library, but that was now out of the question. His fingers fizzed with uncontrollable energy and he clenched his fist to silence it. He hated himself. It was his fault that she was like this, and he didn’t even have the guts to be in the same room as her.

_It should have been me._

He stood on the battlements, staring out into the seemingly never-ending mountains. The cold, which usually annoyed him, was now nothing more than a distant thought at the back of his mind. His whole body ached from guilt. People needed Theia, she was the life of the Inquisition.

“The Seeker told me what happened. Don’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could do.” Varric’s spoke the words Dorian was desperate to hear.

“I should have at least done something.” His voice cracked. “Anything.”

“You can’t change the past.”

“Yes, and we can’t change her future either.”

Varric laughed. “I’m not too sure about that.”

Dorian glared at Varric. “Just because Cassandra knows of a way to reverse it, it doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. We need a spirit, and our spirit expert is long gone.”

“Oh, don’t be such a pessimist, Dorian. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“You say that with such confidence.” Dorian narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Tell me what you have planned.”

“No way, Sparkler, you’ll just have to wait and see like everyone else.” Varric slapped his hand to Dorian’s back. “Now I’ve got some letters to write. Can I trust you here or are you going to throw yourself off the battlements?”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “That is _not_ how I wish to die. Be on your way.”

 

* * *

 

Soft fingertips caressed his lips, slowly working their way over harsh lines of the scar. The touch faded and he grumbled. Lips tenderly replaced the fingertips and he smiled into the kiss. The sun was warm but her kiss was like a snowflake, relieving him of the constant burn of addiction. Usually, it was enough, but not today. He needed more. His skin was on fire and his blood boiled within him. He needed the cold she carried within her, even if it was just for a moment. He reached out, desperate to pull her towards him, but he couldn’t find her. The fire burned brighter and hotter every second that he went without her. He screamed her name and the words scorched his throat and blistered his mouth. The words exploded into the air, sending flames throughout the room. The fire spread, engulfing the room in a matter of seconds. His bed was ablaze, but he was in too much pain to move. He let them engulf him, and for a brief, fleeting moment he became the flames.

 

Cullen was accustomed to nightmares. He thought he’d experienced the worst of them, but he was wrong. Now, they were relentless. Every night he was greeted with the faces of the friends he had lost and the monstrosities that had taken them.

Cullen spent most of his time asleep. In his dreams, Theia was herself. She was made of smiles and laughter, the bright spot in his life. Waking up was like a sword in the gut. Knowing that within the same compound was the love of his life, alive and healthy, but completely empty and devoid of all emotion took a toll on him. Sometimes he woke up in the dead of the night and made it half way to her quarters until he remembered.

Cullen slept until the sunlight that streamed through the hole in the roof caused him discomfort. As the days progressed, Cullen was able to withstand more and more of the burning light, as if he was losing the ability to feel pain.

Standing before his long forgotten desk, Cullen felt the sudden urge to clean some of the mess that had formed. He started by removing the loose papers and replacing the books to their shelves, but soon enough Cullen was rummaging through the draw, throwing away almost everything. Hiding on the bottom of one of the draws, he found the stack of letters he had saved from Theia. He flipped through them, smiling at how obvious the progression of their relationship was through the letters. While the first letters addressed him formally as Commander Cullen, the most recent letters substituted his name to whatever herb Theia had found most beautiful at the time the letter was written.

At the very bottom of the pile was a note Cullen had written to himself. Cullen’s hand shook as he held the fragile paper, remembering the time he had spent hunched over his desk, cringing at his inability to transcribe his feelings properly into words. Over the page, the word marriage and wedding were crossed out several times, followed by question marks and the promise to question Solas on Dalish engagement traditions. Solas had fled Skyhold before he had the chance to ask and Cullen had put off the engagement ever since. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it though, almost every time they were alone, he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from proposing. Cullen skimmed the note, his breath faltering as he noticed a change in handwriting at the bottom of the note. The handwriting was messy and rushed, a stark difference to his graceful script. He recognised it instantly as Theia’s.

 

“ _My dearest Dragonthorn,_

_In the clans, a man will perform a Test of Worth by presenting a woman with the pelt of an animal he has killed. I don’t much want a pelt; I’d much prefer a basket of fruit or a LIVE fennec (Aren’t they just the cutest?)._

_If neither of these are obtainable, perhaps just ask for my hand in marriage. The answer may surprise you (Although it shouldn’t, don’t you know that I love you?) You have proved your worth to me everyday since the moment we met. You continue to amaze me, and I will happily spend my life by your side._

_With love, Theia._

_P.S, please don’t make me wait forever, I would look really nice in a wedding gown. “_

For the first time it what seemed like an eternity, Cullen wept. At first the tears were silent and scarce, but slowly they shook his whole body and leaked down his face like a broken faucet. He began laughing at himself and Theia and their inability to communicate important issues in normal ways. Any other woman would have confronted him as soon as she found the note, but not Theia.

Cullen spent the rest of the day reading about Tranquillity. It left him sick to his stomach, but he continued on, desperate to know all he could. Cullen had spent countless hours around the Tranquil, but he had never understood what it truly meant. Hours passed, and it got to the point where he needed to hear from a new perspective. He needed to know about what being Tranquil meant to Theia. He needed to speak to the only person who could help him. Cole.

Cullen almost couldn’t believe he was going to Cole for help. Since his arrival to the Inquisition, Cullen had tried to keep a distant but watchful eye over the spirit. Almost instantly, Cole and Theia had become friends, roaming Skyhold together and helping anyone who needed it. At first, it terrified Cullen, but he soon understood how much Theia needed Cole. She spent so much of her time surrounded by death and despair and spreading compassion with Cole seemed to ease her burdens.

Cullen made his way to the battlements outside of his quarters and waited for Cole’s presence.

Within minutes, Cole appeared beside him.

“You want to see me?” Cole sounded perplexed.

“The things you spoke that day, they were true?” Cullen cleared his throat. “Theia thought those things before it happened?”

“Those things… and more.” Cole’s voice seemed to shiver.

“Will you tell me it all?” Cole could sense the desperation in Cullen’s voice, he could feel the need deep in his soul. Cole wasn’t sure if he’d ever sensed a pain like this.

“You won’t like it.”

“I figured that much.” Cullen took a breath. “Was she angry?”

“Yes…and no. Both. My last chance. She held on to love, your love, for the longest. It was the last thing she felt.”

“What was her last thought?”

Cole thought for a moment. “She still thinks.”

Cullen didn’t know if he wanted to hear about her Tranquil thoughts. “Before it happened.”

“I don’t want this. Empty, like a flask after a long day in the Hissing Wastes. I can’t live like this.”

Cullen’s breath caught. He had no idea what to say. Theia’s last thought had been begging for release from the prison she knew was coming. He knew what we had to do.

Hastily, Cullen made his way to the library, his mind repeating the words Cole had just spoken. She didn’t want to live as a Tranquil. She would rather be dead.

“Commander Cullen, can I help you?” Theia’s voice brought him out of the trance he was in.

“Yes, actually, I would… like you to come for a walk with me.” He studied her, searching for just a shred of the real Theia.

Her eyes glanced around the room. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” Cullen tried to block the pain her empty voice brought.

The library was almost silent and Cullen knew he wouldn’t be able to kill her where she stood. “Do you remember our kiss? On the battlements?”

“Do I remember? Yes.” Her voice held no emotion, as expected.

“Would you like to go there?”

“I see no reason to do that.”

He sighed in frustration. Knowing there was no reasoning with a Tranquil, he gave up on his first idea. “Do you… enjoy it here?” He knew what the answer would be, but he wanted to hear her say it.

“I don’t have the capacity to enjoy things.”

His heart ached. Theia had once confessed to him that she attempted to find joy in all things. He recalled the two of them entwined on his bed, when rain started to pour through the hole in the roof. Theia’s laugh and giddy scream had warmed his soul while the rain chilled their bodies. “Why are you laughing?” He remembered asking her. “Isn’t it wonderful?” She laughed gleefully. “We can kiss in the rain without even leaving the bed.” He remembered covering her in kisses while the rain poured down on them both.

 “What can you tell me about the Tranquil?”

“Nothing you don’t already know, I presume.”

Cullen was stunned for a moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I remember what you are like Cullen. In this situation, you have already gathered all the information you need.”

“Then why would I have asked you?”

“I don’t have the answer to that question.”

Cullen thought for a moment before proceeding. “You know, I was coming here to kill you.”

“I see.”

“But you have free will, right? If you wanted to be dead, you would be.”

“Commander Cullen, what is free will to a being without emotions? I am guided by logic only. For the Tranquil, there is no logic in suicide.”

“Cole told me of your last thoughts. You didn’t want to live as a Tranquil.”

“I assure you, Commander, I am content with my life as a Tranquil.”

“Content?” Cullen spat the word out. “You _hated_ being content. Don’t you see, Theia? This isn’t how you wanted to live.”

“It is true that I did not wish for this. However, that is in the past. This is how I am now, and it is how I will continue to live. If you don’t mind, Commander, I must return to my duties.”

She turned and walked away. If he had been stronger, he would have killed her right then and there. But he was anything but strong.

 

 

 


End file.
